


Red Dead Rising

by HysteriaLevi



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23029468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HysteriaLevi/pseuds/HysteriaLevi
Summary: 12 YEARS BEFORE THE EVENTS OF RED DEAD REDEMPTION IIGreed, money, and larceny. These are the only things Arthur has ever known; the only things he’s ever been taught. But when Dutch decides to hit a town called Harlow, what started out as nothing more than a plan to rob the local bank ends up igniting the events that lead to RDR2, and a 24 year-old Arthur is forced to confront his morality while the gang faces a terrifying enemy of their own making.
Relationships: Annabelle/Dutch van der Linde, Bessie Matthews/Hosea Matthews, Mary Gillis Linton/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Forsaken

**Author's Note:**

> Well! It’s been a couple months since I last sat down and wrote anything, but it feels good to be writing fanfic again. Please let me know what you think of this first chapter, and I hope you enjoy :) I missed doing this.

SOMEWHERE IN OREGON

APRIL, 1887

“GET BACK HERE, SHAW!” Farley roared over the thunder as he chased the deputy through the pouring rain. “We ain’t done until one of us drops dead!”

The other man frantically hurdled his way over a series of boulders and continued to climb the small mountain, his feet clumsily slipping on the wet rock as he desperately tried to escape his pursuer.

“I-It’s already done, Farley!” The deputy yelled back. “Ain’t nothin’ you can do that’ll change what’s happened!”

“Maybe not!” Ronan conceded. “But that don’t matter. Not anymore. All that matters now is killing you. So get back here and finish what you started, you goddamn snake!”

Storming his way up the steep hill, the ex-sheriff hoisted himself onto a ledge and let out a strained grunt, his fingers practically digging into the solid stone as cold rain streamed down his bloodied face.

Ronan was already drained of all energy just from hunting this man down, and the more he scaled this godforsaken mountain, the more he found himself wanting to give up and simply collapse.

But regardless of how exhausted he grew, or how much his body threatened to break underneath him, Farley absolutely refused to drop. He had already been through so much, and lost everything he ever cared for. His closest friend was dead, his wife was nowhere to be found, and now, the only life he ever knew was crumbling around him all because of one man.

It may have been futile, but nothing was going to stop Ronan from doing what he intended.

Nothing was going to stop him from killing Benjamin Shaw.

Whipping out his pistol, Farley quickly shot the deputy’s abdomen just as he began hugging a corner, causing the man to leave a trail of blood in his wake as he continued to flee.

“…Dammit!” Ronan muttered once he realized he missed. But he wasn’t giving up just yet.

Forcing himself up the ledge, the sheriff carried on with his pursuit and chased after Shaw as he limped towards the mountain’s peak, groaning in agony with every step he took.

By now, the monstrous clouds above them had parted slightly so that they were blanketing the entire region, allowing nothing more than a sliver of sunlight to bleed through as the rest of the land was shrouded in a miserable darkness.

From up here, it was impossible to see any sign of civilization hiding in the vast wilderness beneath them. For just a moment, Ronan felt as if he and Benjamin were the last remaining men on Earth.

There was nothing out here except the two of them. Nothing except two, insignificant killers fighting to the death… all for something that had already been destroyed beyond repair.

It was meaningless, and the world would carry on without them even when they were dead, but killing Benjamin was one of the only two things Ronan gave a damn about anymore -- and by God was he going to do it.

Finally reaching the top of the mountain, Ronan found Deputy Shaw sitting against a lone tree just by the cliff’s edge as he clutched his waist, groaning and cursing to himself while blood continued to stain the grass below.

It seemed unlikely that Benjamin would survive his injuries, but when the conniving man finally noticed Farley’s presence, he did nothing except let out a weak chuckle, his voice slowly faltering in pain.

Shaw smiled at the former sheriff from a distance and laughed, revealing the red-stained teeth he had uttered so many lies through.

“…A-Alright, Farley…” Benjamin panted out, casually raising his hands in defeat. “…You… you got me. Well done, I guess.”

Slowly prowling towards the injured deputy, Ronan kept his gun aimed directly at Shaw’s head and glowered at him with a wounded gaze, trying to conceal the broken man hiding inside.

“Shaw.” The sheriff replied in what was almost a whisper.

He had about a thousand thoughts rushing through his head right now, but none of them reached his mouth. He knew neither what he wanted to say, nor what was worth saying.

And so, Benjamin spoke in his place.

“I-I suppose… you want an explanation…?” The deputy asked. “Is that it?”

Ronan clenched his jaw at the response. “You could say that.”

The sheriff continued, barely speaking in an audible tone. “I treated you fair, Ben. Always did. So why’d you do it? What do you gain from all of this?”

Shaw hung his head low, not even bothering trying to talk his way out of this one.

“Awww… it weren’t nothing personal, Farley. Just business. We have our jobs, after all, and I was just doin’ mine. Trust me. It’s what’s best for my people.”

Ronan picked up on the last statement.

“Your people…?” The sheriff questioned. “And what about Andrew? That poor boy had barely grown into a man before you murdered him. You think this is what’s best for him?”

Benjamin appeared unfazed by that. “Better him than my folks.”

Angered at the reply, Ronan suddenly lurched forward and forcefully grabbed Shaw’s collar, hauling the man’s face closer to his.

“You sick son-of-a-bitch…” Farley nearly growled. “I’d kill you right now if it wasn’t for my wife.” He violently shook Benjamin in his grip. “Where is she, you bastard? What have you done with Annabelle?!”

Shaw choked on the blood gathering in his mouth and let out a series of coughs, eventually spitting the red liquid on the ground.

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout her…” he mumbled out. “She’s in safe hands.”

Ronan yanked him closer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Benjamin looked the sheriff in the eye, repeating his answer. “I said, don’t worry about her, Farley. She’s with my people now. She’s safe.”

Farley remained unconvinced. “And I’m supposed to just believe you?”

The deputy smirked, but in an oddly sincere fashion. “I done told… a lotta lies recently, but that… I promise you. My friends… they’ll take good care of her. It’s what they do. What they’ve always done.”

The sheriff sighed in frustration. “But where is she? Who are ‘your people?”

Benjamin shook his head and gave Ronan an apologetic gaze, keeping his lips tight.

“Oh… now, you know I can’t tell you that, old friend. S’much as I’d like to. It’s… it’s confidential. I’m sure you understand.”

Farley persisted. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

Shaw only grinned at that and patted the sheriff’s fist in a friendly manner as he slipped away, hacking up even more blood.

“…Well, you will. Someday. You’re a smart fella, after all. I mean… you found me, didn’t you?”

Ronan’s tone softened and he gazed at the ground, his expression plastered with regret.

“…So I did. After it was too late.”

Benjamin nodded in understanding, his brow furrowing due to the pain. “Yeah…that’s usually how it goes.”

Realizing that there was nothing he could say or do that would convince Shaw to help him, Ronan finally released the man from his grip and steadily rose from the ground, his coat wildly flapping in the adamant breeze as he reluctantly prepared his pistol.

As much as he hated to admit it, it did pain the sheriff to kill Benjamin. Despite everything he had done in these past couple of weeks, Ronan still hadn’t forgotten the deputy he once called friend, and it certainly didn’t help to lose another familiar face right after saying goodbye to young Andrew.

Farley may’ve despised Shaw with all his heart and hated him for his crimes, but he also didn’t want to destroy the one remaining piece of his past left. There was a warped sense of camaraderie between them, and in a twisted way, it almost made Ronan want to spare him.

…But he knew he couldn’t.

Reloading the gun with one last bullet, Ronan pulled the hammer down and stared helplessly at his old partner, wondering how in the hell he got here.

It wasn’t too long ago that Farley was a respected sheriff in his town, but now… he was no more than an outcast. Just another lost man who had given in to vengeance and betrothed himself to a lifetime of pointless redemption, only to discover that no one gave a damn anyways.

Ronan Farley was already dead, as far as civilization was concerned. He was nothing but a tarnished face whose only legacy would be hushed whispers and cautionary tales.

He had become the very man he once hanged for a living, and the world had forsaken him because of it.

He was alone.

Taking a deep breath, Ronan inched his finger over the trigger and aimed the pistol directly at Benjamin’s head, trying to hide how much his hand was truly trembling.

The only thing that Farley could hear aside from his own heartbeat was the low cracking of the distant thunder and the wretched howling of the wind, both of which filled his head like a wailing phantom.

He was finally ready to carry out what he had come here for, and to live with whatever consequences arrived. He was ready to put all remorse aside.

“Goodbye, Ben,” Ronan said flatly as the day came to an end. “I wish I could say I was sorry.”

Shaw smiled loosely at that and closed his eyes, resting his head against the tree.

“…You really shouldn’t be.” The deputy let out one final, jagged breath. “I just wish it didn’t have to end like this.”

Ronan shook his head and gazed vehemently at the man, softening his tone as the sky began to lighten around them.

“Don’t we all.”

~~~~~~~~~~

EARLIER THAT YEAR

FEBRUARY

HARLAN LAKE, DAWN

Filling the silence of the dying night, a few birds started to sing joyously into the emptiness just as the sun began peeking above the jagged horizon, its vibrant light painting the nearby mountains with a striking salmon color that stood out prominently from the deep, purple atmosphere.

It was rather peaceful at this time of day. Aside from the birds, there wasn’t much activity among the local wildlife at the moment, and the humans inhabiting the area had yet to rouse from their slumber either.

All of their tents were still shut, and the only noises coming from their camp were the distant sounds of content snoring accompanied by the soft crackling of a flickering campfire.

Meanwhile, their horses slept unperturbed under the numerous trees surrounding the vast lake as their leaves rustled in the crisp morning breeze, softly swaying in a way that almost made it look like the forest was breathing.

As for the unseen fish in the lake, a few of them had just started periodically poking their heads above the rippling surface, eager to feed on the insects buzzing around in the air.

But for the moment, everything was calm. Not single thing disturbed the overall peace in the region, and the only person to be ambling about was a distinctive man who was currently making himself comfortable on a stump.

He paid no mind to the nature slowly waking up around him nor to his fellow gang members who still lingered in their dreams, and instead, focused entirely on the peculiar item in his hand.

It was a letter.

And not only that, but a letter from someone he didn’t expect to hear from again. The two of them parted ways a while ago, after all, and he didn’t anticipate the other to contact him so soon.

They seemed quite determined in their plan to meander down a different path in life the last time he saw them, so it was both a pleasant and worrying surprise to see that they were trying to reach out.

Whether it was to ask for help or to officially say goodbye, he didn’t know. He just hoped that everything was alright. There was little to no safety in their line of work, and if anything had happened to his dear friend, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

The man supposed there was no point in delaying the inevitable and hastily unfolded the piece of paper, curious to see the message waiting on the inside:

“Hello, old friend,” the letter began. “It’s Hosea. I know it’s been nearly an entire year since I last contacted you -- and I regret that -- but I’m afraid I’ve hit a wall, Dutch.”

“My life with Bessie -- it’s been going well. We’ve settled down for a bit and tried to squeeze ourselves back into civilization... but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the times I spent with you. And with Arthur.”

“I love Bessie with all my heart, of course. There’s no denying that. In fact, she’s the reason I decided to put the gang behind. I wanted to start a new life with her -- a life away from crime. But after all this time of being separated from you degenerates, I’ve learned that there’s no use in hiding the man I truly am.”

“I was never meant to be a man of civilization. You know that. Being bound by the law feels like wearing a leash around my neck, and frankly, this old boy’s grown tired of it. Needless to say, Bessie ain’t too happy about my choices, but I’ve got something good for you, Dutch. Something you might be interested in. And I’m willing to bet it could help the gang too.”

“Come meet me in New Aubertin at the end of this week. It’s a city to the northwest, accessible by any train station. I’ll send a contact in my stead to greet you just in case the law gets wind of our ideas. Look for a man by the name of Thomas Moreau. I’ve instructed him to wait for you by the pond. He’ll lead you to me. Oh, and one more thing: bring Arthur with you. The boy doesn’t need to be there necessarily, but I miss him dearly. It would be good to see you both again.”

The man flipped the letter to the other side, reading its final sentence.

“...Stay safe, Dutch. We’ve got big plans ahead of us.”


	2. The Old Guard

ONE WEEK LATER

NEW AUBERTIN

NOON

The sharp whistle of a steam locomotive echoed throughout the American wilderness as it barreled across the tracks, disturbing the trees that guarded the railroad and scaring their avian inhabitants.

At the moment, the train was on its way to a unique city known as New Aubertin. Or -- if one was the romantic type -- the City of Tomorrow. It was a city heavily influenced by French culture located on the coast of Oregon, and had quite the reputation for being a place of great entertainment.

There were people constantly going in and out of this city. Tourists, businessmen, politicians, artists -- almost everyone had set foot within its bustling atmosphere. New Aubertin was known for its leisurely lifestyles, and one of its signature landmarks was a copper statue of the man who founded the city: Baptiste Berger. It was located only a couple blocks away from the train station and stood at fifteen feet tall, always greeting tourists with a welcoming stance from a pedestal.

What the tourists on this particular train didn’t realize, however, was that another man’s name would soon be on everyone’s lips.

And that man... was aboard this very train.

“Tickets!” The conductor announced, casually strolling his way through the train’s opulent aisles.

“Please have your tickets out and ready, people! Everybody get your tickets out!”

All around him, passengers immediately began fumbling through their purses and pockets as the conductor gradually progressed down the walkway, monotonously checking the same pieces of paper over and over again.

Everyday the poor fellow had to endure the same trip, the same train, and... well, it may as well have been the same passengers. Everyone always looked so similar to the conductor in their asphyxiation-inducing gowns and three-piece suits. There was hardly ever anyone who stood out from the crowd.

It grew tiresome, after a time. Not only was he paid a minuscule amount of money, he was also miserably bored of constantly reliving the same day. There was never anything new. Never anything fresh. As far as he was aware, there really was no reason to employ enthusiasm.

And so, as the journey carried on, he simply dragged himself down the aisle, offering no more than a glance at the passengers’ tickets. Someone could’ve presented a handkerchief for all he cared, and he would’ve never even noticed.

Meanwhile, the children on the train fidgeted in their seats alongside their parents, impatient to reach the destination that was slowly but surely drawing nigh. As for the elders, most of them had already dozed off ever since the train’s departure, and the lulling melodies dancing out of the nearby phonograph certainly did nothing to rouse them.

Overall, things were relatively calm, and it was nothing more than another Tuesday.

“Tickets, sir.” The conductor requested upon reaching the next set of passengers.

It was a pair of men sitting side-by-side. The one closer to the window seemed to be entranced by the wilderness breezing past the train at the moment, and the gentleman closer to the aisle had his face buried in a book. It didn’t appear to be an intriguing book, judging by the plain green cover, but the man holding it was evidently captivated by its stories.

Feeling a bit sheepish due to the lack of a response, the conductor rested an arm on the head of the seats in front of them and gently cleared his throat, causing the gentleman to pause in the middle of turning a page.

Interrupted by the greeting, the book steadily began to lower itself and revealed a pair of lively brown eyes hiding behind it, both of which twinkled with a distinctive sparkle.

“Can I help you, sir?” Their owner asked once he noticed the conductor looming above him.

The conductor held his hand out. “I need to see your tickets, sir.”

“Ah, yes,” he recalled, placing the book down. “Of course.” The man nudged his friend. “Hey! Get your ticket.”

Taking a moment to dig into his vest’s small but secure pocket, the gentleman took both their tickets in hand before swiftly giving them over to the conductor, allowing him to validate them.

Holding them in the sunlight seeping through the windows, the conductor briefly studied the tickets before raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the gentleman, subsequently posing a question.

“What you readin’ there, mister?”

The gentleman smiled proudly and picked up the book from his lap, reading the title aloud.

“The Inequities of the American Ambition by Evelyn Miller. You ever read Evelyn Miller’s work, sir?”

The conductor flatly mumbled out a reply. “...No.”

The passenger chuckled. “Oh, well... you are missing out my friend, I assure you. You are missin’ out. Say, there’s a wonderful quote from this book that I like. I think about it quite often. Would you like to hear it?”

The man sighed. “...S’much as I’d love to...” he threw a lazy gesture at the rest of the train, “I gotta get to everyone else.”

“Ah, of course,” the gentleman said respectfully. “Pardon my presumptuousness. You go on and collect those tickets. Don’t let me take up your time. Good day.”

Pushing himself off the seat’s headrest, the conductor gladly handed the passengers’ tickets back to them and sluggishly attended to the other people waiting down the aisle, carrying on with this ordinary day.

In the meantime, the gentleman simply sat in silence for a moment, nonchalantly observing the content atmosphere of the train as the other passengers paid him no mind.

It was always interesting for him to watch other people live their lives. He couldn’t help but wonder where they were going. What they were thinking. What plans they had.

Every single person on this train had their own story to see through. A conclusion that they all wanted to reach. For all they knew, someone on this train could’ve been on their way to see a dying loved one. Or to a wedding, or maybe even to a new home.

This voyage could’ve meant the world to any of these passengers, and yet, no one would ever know... except them. That was the beauty of today’s society, but also one of its most frightening aspects.

Growing bored of his inner thoughts, the gentleman pulled his attention away from the people around him and turned to the young man, hoping to start a last-minute conversation before they reached their destination.

“So... what d’you think, Arthur?” He asked, causing his friend’s head to jolt away from the window.

The young man paused briefly. “Think about what, Dutch?”

“You’re the one been starin’ out the window this whole time. You think we’re gettin’ close to New Aubertin?”

Arthur shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve never been there before. Or to any big city, actually.”

“Really? Well, you are either gonna love it... or hate it.”

The young man chuckled. “That’s it? There’s no room for middle ground?”

Dutch shook his head. “Not usually, no. Not when it comes to civilization.”

Arthur leaned back in his seat. “What do you mean by that?”

“Think about it,” Dutch explained. “The civilized world as we know it was built on a black and white foundation. You’re either civilized, or savage. Rich, or poor. Saint, or sinner. Dead... or alive. It’s very rare to find a civilized man who thinks in shades of gray.”

Arthur grinned at that, not entirely taking his friend too seriously. “...You been readin’ too much Evelyn Miller again, Dutch.”

The older man chortled. “Laugh at me now all you want, Arthur. When you get to be my age, you’ll be the same way.”

The young man sighed. “God, I hope not.”

That only made Dutch laugh harder. “Oh, it’s true! It’s true. And you’d best believe it.”

Changing the subject, Arthur directed his curiosity to the mysterious letter Dutch received from Hosea, suddenly remembering that he knew next to nothing about what they were doing.

“Hey,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees, “remind me again why we’re goin’ to New Aubertin? I know you said we were gonna meet up with Hosea, but... what for? Didn’t he leave the gang?”

Dutch nodded, switching to a more serious tone. “He did, but it sounds like he’s back in business. Apparently, Hosea’s got a good tip for us. Somethin’ that’ll help the gang big-time.”

Arthur quirked a brow. “Like what?”

“I dunno yet,” the outlaw replied with a shrug. “Hosea was very surreptitious in his letter. And on top of that, he’s sending a contact to meet us in his stead at New Aubertin. A man by the name of Thomas Moreau. He’ll be at the pond if things go accordin’ to plan.”

“And... you think we can trust this Moreau feller?” The young man asked skeptically.

Dutch appeared uncertain. “Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is I trust Hosea with my life. And if Hosea trusts Moreau, then... yes. I suppose that means I do.”

Arthur paused for a second, clearly still a bit incredulous. “Hmm... if you say so.”

Dutch patted the boy on the shoulder, trying to reassure the him. “Have no fear, Arthur. We’ll be fine. Besides, the rest of the gang’s meeting us here tomorrow. It ain’t like we’re gonna be all by ourselves.”

“I know,” the young man said. “I’m just a bit anxious, is all. I ain’t used to Hosea bein’ so secretive.”

“Well, he has to be. With the way our gang’s been growing over this past year, the law’s startin’ to pay more attention to us. It weren’t too long ago that we was nothing more than a small pack of fools. But now, we’ve got Benjamin, Alvaretta, Gil... and Hosea’s gonna be back with us soon. Along with whoever else he’s got under his wing. We’re becoming a force to be reckoned with.”

Arthur chuckled. “Sounds like you couldn’t be happier with how we’ve turned out.”

“Oh, I’m happy, alright. But believe me, Arthur... this is only the beginning of our gang. We ain’t even close to being complete.”

The boy smiled at that, deciding to raise one last question as the train finally began to approach its destination.

"Hey, Dutch... there’s somethin’ I wanted to ask you.”

The outlaw was intrigued. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Arthur recalled his conversation with the conductor. “Earlier, you mentioned there was a quote in that book you liked. The one by Evelyn Miller. What does it say?”

Dutch smirked in a way that said he had been waiting for someone to ask. “Oh, it’s quite verbose, but... you know Mr. Miller. Always embellishing his words, that man. Still, I reckon you’ll like it. I think about it every day.”

He leaned forward, reciting the fervent quote. “The American ambition cares not for the white man, the black man, the yellow man, or the red man. It cares not for the rich man, the poor man, the lawful man, or the sinful. The only man it cares for... is the dead man. Because dead men require no care at all.”

Arthur listened to the words intently, admittedly not completely understanding the meaning behind them.

“So... is he sayin’ that America doesn’t care about anybody?”

Dutch nodded, holding up his index finger. “Precisely. Look around you, Arthur. America is designed to induce apathy in people. That’s why folks like us gotta do what we have to in order to survive. It’s the way of the west... but I’m hopin’ we can be better than that.”

Breaking the silence with a loud whistle, the train suddenly came to a steady halt as its metal wheels screeched against the railroad tracks and the city of New Aubertin finally came into view, greeting all the passengers with its grandiose station.

Just by gazing out the window, Arthur could already see thick clumps of people striding about everywhere as they all rushed to their platforms, snaking their way around the few lawmen scattered around.

There were people from all different walks of life occupying the station at the moment, and Arthur couldn’t deny that he was already a tad overwhelmed by the bustling nature of this city. He sincerely hoped that the rest of New Aubertin would be somewhat more laid-back.

“Well!” Dutch said excitedly, standing up from his seat. “Looks like we’ve finally arrived at this dreadful cesspool.”

He gestured to the aisle, beckoning the young man. “Shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Strolling through the city’s lively streets, Arthur and Dutch navigated their way across its convoluted layout as they quickly headed for the Drouin Garden, eager to meet this elusive Moreau character.

Dutch didn’t seem to be too concerned with anything else going on and simply kept his eyes ahead of him, wasting no time in finding Hosea’s contact. This was nothing new to the older man, after all. He had seen plenty of things during his time as an outlaw -- been to all sorts of places -- and cities like New Aubertin weren’t anything special in his eyes.

Arthur, on the other hand, found himself incredibly intrigued by the opulent buildings towering over the brick roads.

They were unlike anything he’d ever seen. The buildings in New Aubertin seemed to look down on the rest of the world, and it amazed Arthur to examine the ridiculous amount of windows embedded into their walls.

How many offices were there? Apartments? Bedrooms? Just how many people were crammed into these spaces? How could one city fit so many different things in it? It was mind-boggling.

As for the ground-level, Arthur spotted what looked like a lavish saloon to his right. There was a prominent sign standing above the establishment that read “Le Soleil d’Or,” and it was constructed out of a bland metallic material, but the words themselves had been highlighted with spherical lights that remained dim in the daytime.

Arthur didn’t know how the hell to pronounce the saloon’s name, or what it even meant, but judging by the crowds of people packed inside, and the upbeat music pouring through its open doors, he assumed it was quite a popular joint in New Aubertin. He’d have to pay a visit sometime.

Traveling a bit further down the road, a golden glint suddenly caught Arthur’s eye when the signature statue of Baptiste Berger came into view, smiling radiantly under the sun’s glimmer. It had a circle of neatly-trimmed shrubs decorating the base of its pedestal along with a bronze plaque on the front, and there were a number of tourists admiring it at the moment.

And across the street from the statue, there appeared to be a cozy, little restaurant marked with a vibrant red roof. Groups of civilians were relaxing in the outdoors area with tall umbrellas to provide them shade, and the sound of casual conversation could be heard within the vicinity. Arthur listened in.

“Now, exactly what on Earth is going on in Mercy?” One posh woman asked her friend. “Have the papers been saying anything?”

Her dining partner shook her head. “Apparently, Abraham Walsh passed away just two days ago. The details of his death are... muddled, to say the least, but his son’s in charge now.”

The first woman scoffed. “His son? You don’t mean Reuben, do you? The boy’s a cripple! And he’s so young. What can he do?”

“I don’t know, but... if you ask me, Mercy was doomed to fail from the start. The crime in that town is atrocious, and everyone knows Miss Whitaker’s corrupt.”

“Well... I suppose it’s not our concern, anyway. Mercy is always best when avoided. I’ll just stay here in New Aubertin, thank you.”

Arthur’s ears perked in interest. A town full of crime? Corrupt citizens? Perhaps that could be another opening for the gang, once they handled whatever Hosea had in mind.

Arthur took his attention away from the two ladies and caught up to Dutch who was still moving with the same brisk pace as before, not even bothering to take in the sights of the city.

“So,” Dutch commented, now that the young man was by his side again, “how you likin’ New Aubertin? Is it what you expected?”

“I mean... the place sure is pretty,” Arthur replied, not sounding too confident, “but Jesus Christ, I’d hate livin’ here. Way too many people. And good god, that smell is awful.”

Dutch laughed softly, placing a hand on his shoulders. “Well, perhaps you’ll like the garden better. Areas like that tend to be much quieter compared to the rest of the city. C’mon, it’s this way.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

DROUIN GARDEN

Finally arriving at their destination, the two outlaws gladly presented themselves to the serene atmosphere of the Drouin Garden as they wandered underneath its half-moon gateway, leaving the rest of the city behind.

Out here, things were far more relaxed. There were only a few people roaming around the garden’s vivid plant-life, and the soothing sounds of water trickling could be heard from a nearby fountain.

The lush flowers in the area filled the air with a sweet fragrance that paired nicely with the refreshing breeze, and not too far away from the entrance, Arthur and Dutch could see a beautiful little pond. Just like Hosea described it.

The pond was decorated with a variety of different flowers that stood out from the overall green and softly hugged the water’s edges, giving it an almost dream-like appearance.

It was inhabited by schools of tiny fish that could be seen gliding just under the surface, and resting at the end of a wooden footbridge that extended across the water was a quaint gazebo that had been nestled among the plants.

What really caught their attention however, was the lone man sitting inside the gazebo.

He certainly didn’t fit in with anyone else. Most of the people in this city were dressed in the height of fashion and only wore clothes from the most acclaimed of designers, but this man... his outfit was more akin to that of a woodsman. Someone who clearly didn’t originate from the city.

He had a sturdy green coat that was adorned by a black sheepskin collar, and wore nothing but a simple blue shirt and dark pair of trousers underneath. The soles of his boots looked worn out due to old age, and the intricate patterns on them had partially faded.

Concerning the man himself, he appeared to be in his early thirties. His complexion was light and somewhat sunburnt, but the only wrinkles creasing his skin were a few lines beginning to form on the forehead and around the eyes.

As for his hair, it was short and brown. The style was rather unkempt and a few strands swayed loosely in the breeze, but it was clear that the man had made some attempt to tidy it up. Although, it was probably just to keep his hair out of his face.

The man also had a fairly bushy beard lining the edge of his jaw. It was emphasized around the mustache and chops areas, but the chin was slightly more tame, giving his face a much more structured look.

Surprisingly though, his overall temperament didn’t seem to match the impression he gave off. Instead of coming across as the stoic and hardy man that he appeared to be, his brown eyes carried a compassionate demeanor within them... along with a noticeable hint of sorrow that dimmed his gaze.

Dutch nudged Arthur upon noticing the man, gesturing towards him.

“Look over there. I think that’s our man. C’mon, let’s go introduce ourselves.”

Casually making their way across the footbridge, the two outlaws slipped into the shade being provided by the gazebo and approached the lone man, doing their best not to look conspicuous.

At the moment, the man had his nose buried in a black leather journal and was sketching numerous little doodles of the things laid out in front of him as a way to kill time, causing Arthur’s curiosity to spike even further. Seemed like the man was an artist, too.

Dutch cleared his throat, getting the man’s attention.

“Um, excuse me, mister?” He said, leaning against one of the gazebo’s columns. “Are you Thomas Moreau?”

The man placed his journal down, focusing entirely on the two strangers now standing before him.

“I am. And who are you, sir?” His voice was much gentler than Arthur expected.

Dutch leaned forward, making sure no one else could hear them. “Dutch van der Linde. Our... mutual friend arranged for us to meet.”

An expression of remembrance spread across Thomas’ face.

“Ah, yes. It’s good to finally meet. Hosea’s spoken a lot about you.” He glanced to Dutch’s side. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Arthur Morgan,” Dutch introduced. “Hosea knows him, too. Asked me to bring him along, in fact. He said you would lead us to him?”

Thomas nodded, standing up. “Yes. It’s best if we go as soon as possible. Hosea’s eager to speak with you.”

“...Now?” Dutch questioned. “In broad daylight?”

“Three men movin’ through a crowd in the daytime will look a whole lot less suspicious than three men sneakin’ through the streets at night.”

“Fair point,” the outlaw conceded. “Well, in that case, lead the way, Mr. Moreau.”

~~~~~~~~~~

OUTSKIRTS OF NEW AUBERTIN

“So, where exactly is Hosea?” Dutch asked as Thomas led him and Arthur outside the city. “I thought he was in New Aubertin.”

“No,” Moreau answered. “This was just the closest location you gentlemen could have access to. The truth is, Hosea’s made camp in a place called Indigo Peak. It’s in the woods just outside New Aubertin, hidden deep in the mountains. It ain’t too far away from here, but it’s easy to miss if you don’t know what to look for. Perfect for keepin’ the law away.”

Arthur chuckled. “Hosea did always know the best places to hide. Is Bessie with him?”

“Yes. Along with two other outlaws he’s been working with. They share the camp.”

Dutch raised a brow in interest. “He has other people with him? Who are they?”

Thomas briefly described Hosea’s partners. “Brothers. Quite a violent pair, if you ask me. Also a tad impulsive, but... they have their uses. Mr. Matthews found them in a saloon while he was exploring a town called Mercy.”

Arthur recalled that name from before. “Mercy? I overheard a coupla women talkin’ about that place earlier. Apparently, things ain’t doin’ so great.”

“Yep,” Moreau confirmed. “It’s further to the east. Ain’t as big as New Aubertin, but the situation there is volatile. Lots o’ gang activity in that area... which brings me to somethin’ else that you fellas should probably know. According to the rumors Hosea’s heard recently, the O’Driscolls have been prowling around this region. For what, we don’t know. But they seem to have an interest here.”

Dutch sighed in irritation. “Of course. We can’t seem to take a single step without Colm’s boys creepin’ in the bushes nowadays. Shoulda guessed he’d be here.”

Arthur posed a question to Thomas. “But what about you? What’s your story? How’d you and Hosea meet?”

The man paused for a second, clearly not eager to open up about it. “Oh, it’s... quite the complicated tale. Also rather depressing, I’m afraid. But to summarize, my younger sister married a man who didn’t treat her right. He wanted a wife who was subservient, who would carry out his every wish... but my sister, she never complied. Always had a mind of her own. And eventually -- after five years of marriage -- it got her killed one day. I received word not too much later, and... decided to pay her husband a visit. You can probably guess the rest of the story.”

Arthur let out a breath. “Jesus. I’m... I’m sorry. What happened after that?”

“I ran like hell. That’s what. Went into hidin’ for a few weeks, robbed some people here and there, and finally... I crossed paths with Hosea. He offered me a place to stay in exchange for my help, and I’ve been at his side since.”

Thomas quickly changed the subject, bringing everyone’s minds back to the task at hand.

“But enough about that. There are some horses waitin’ for us just outside the city. Hosea took the liberty of rounding them up for you. C’mon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

EVENING

INDIGO PEAK

Trudging up the mountains’ rocky terrain and steep hills, the three outlaws rode into Hosea’s camp just as the red sun started dropping towards the horizon, making it just in time for dinner.

The sky was a deep shade of violet at the moment, highlighted with some streaks of pink, and illuminating from within the thick circle of trees surrounding Hosea’s camp, Arthur could see the comforting glow of a fresh fire.

There was also the welcoming scent of some recently-cooked stew, and judging by the distant chatter seeping through the woods, Hosea and his men had already started discussing their plan. Things were about to get exciting.

“This way.” Thomas directed, leading Arthur and Dutch to the hitching posts.

Thomas was riding his own mount, a Kentucky Saddler called Nile that had a Buttermilk Buckskin coat and a long, black mane. As for the other two, Hosea had been kind enough to gift the older man a beautiful Dark Bay Andalusian that Dutch decided to name Belle-Dame. Meanwhile, Arthur received an Appaloosa with a Blanket coat that he called Abitha.

Both of the horses appeared to be in healthy condition, and despite only having been acquainted with them for less than an hour, Arthur couldn’t deny that he was already growing fond of Abitha. Her behavior was a tad skittish, but the longer she and Arthur traveled together, the less she seemed to be wary of her new owner. Maybe he was better at making friends than he thought.

“Well, well...” a familiar voice called out to them, bringing Arthur back to reality. “If it ain’t my favorite pair of trigger-happy, money-hungry, word-twisting reprobates!”

Dutch dismounted his horse and returned the remark with a hearty laugh, sauntering towards the center of the camp as Hosea went to greet him.

“Lord above. An entire year away from the gang’s commotion, and you still look as miserable as ever, you sly bastard!”

Hosea scoffed humorously. “Ha! Just one year without my company, and you look more miserable than you’ve ever been!”

The two men guffawed joyously together, filling the camp with a lively mood.

“Oh,” Dutch said, giving his old friend a hug, “I missed you, my brother.”

Hosea smirked. “I missed you too, Dutch. I missed you, too. But... we should try to keep it down. Bessie’s already gone to bed. She’s been awful tired lately, poor thing.”

Mr. Matthew’s sharp gaze traveled to Arthur, leading his smile to grow even wider.

“Ah!” He exclaimed happily, spreading his arms open. “And Mr. Morgan! Oh my goodness, look at you. You’ve grown so much.”

Arthur casually welcomed the embrace, chortling. “It’s only been a year, Hosea. I ain’t that much older.”

“I know, but still. You look different. Vigorous. More like a man.”

Dutch jumped in. “Well, he’s engaged to Mary now, so he’s gotta be.”

Hosea’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re going to marry to her?”

Arthur nodded. “I know. That poor woman.”

The other man patted him on the shoulder, chuckling. “Nonsense. You’ll make a fine husband. Take it from me when I say marriage is worth it. It ain’t easy -- hell, sometimes it’s a downright mess -- but it’s worth it.”

Joining the friendly scene, Thomas strolled away from the horses and into the orange light of the campfire, causing Hosea to divert his attention.

“Thank you for bringing them to me, Thomas. I appreciate it.”

Mr. Moreau gave a silent nod in response and swiftly lit a pipe before retreating to a quieter corner of the camp, leaving the rest of the gang to their business.

“Follow me gentlemen,” Hosea said, guiding Dutch and Arthur to the other men at the fire. “We’ve got much to discuss.”

Taking their seats on the logs surrounding the campfire, the three of them took a moment to get comfortable and settle in as Hosea reached for his half-empty bottle of beer, offering his friends a drink of their own.

“Would you fellas like anything to eat? Some stew? How about a drink?”

Dutch smiled. “You know what, a drink sounds fantastic right now.”

Hosea turned to Arthur. “And you?”

“Sure, I’ll have one.”

Reaching into a nearby crate, Hosea passed the beers around as the caps started to come off with a soft hiss, allowing Dutch and Arthur to finally relax for a bit.

Taking a sip of the cold beverage, Arthur noticed two other men sitting by Hosea’s side, both of them somewhat tipsy thanks to their own drinks. One of them was leaning against a tree and had a bottle neatly tucked within his grasp, while the other one slouched in a chair and had his legs lazily extended out in front of him.

Arthur didn’t know if they were twins, but they sure looked similar to each other. Most-likely the brothers Thomas was referring to earlier.

They each had a head of blonde-reddish hair that reached down to their shoulders, but only one of them actually bothered to tie it into a ponytail. Their jaws were lined with scruff that stuck out in all sorts of peculiar angles, and if there was anything about them that stood out to Arthur, it was the fierce look in their eyes.

Just one glance from either of them seemed to hold you in place. There was a certain sense of brutality that gave their gaze a sharp edge, and even in their current drunken states, Arthur had no doubts they could easily beat a man down. It was no wonder why Hosea kept these two at his side. Lord only knew what sort of hell they were capable of raising.

“I don’t believe you’ve met these two yet,” Hosea said, noticing Arthur’s lingering stare. “Arthur and Dutch, meet the Callander brothers. This is Davey,” he gestured to the one with his hair down, “and that’s Mac. They’ll be helping us out on this heist.”

Dutch raised his bottle. “Pleasure to meet you gentlemen.”

Davey mumbled out a response. “...Yeah.”

Mac didn’t say anything.

“Now then,” Hosea continued, “I know everyone’s eager to get straight to planning, so lemme show you what we’ve got so far.”

Pulling out a map from the inside of his coat, he unrolled the piece of paper and laid it flat on the ground where everyone could see it, pointing to the word written in the top-left corner.

Dutch narrowed his eyes slightly, reading the text aloud.

“...Harlow?”

“It’s a town to the north of New Aubertin,” Hosea informed. “It’s a peaceful little hamlet located in the woods. Not much activity happens there, but... well, we think we’ve got something special. Mac, tell ‘em about it.”

The man stayed put and explained the plan from his tree, gesturing to the map with nothing but a bottle.

“Well, like Hosea says, Harlow’s an uneventful town. It’s known for being very safe, and people try to move there all the time. Now, that may sound like a good thing, but make no mistake... the low crime rate is all thanks to the lawmen there. Apparently, they’re some of the best in the whole state. Especially that sheriff o’ theirs.”

Dutch looked up from the map. “And who would that be?”

“A man named Ronan Farley. I ain’t never seen him for myself, but I hear he’s ruthless when it comes to dealin’ with our type. Has no problem introducing outlaws to the California collar. And not only that, but his deputies are no joke either.”

Davey sluggishly nodded in agreement. “Mhm. We looked into them, too. He’s got three deputies. Henry Buchanan, Clayton Sommer, and Andrew Leighton. You ain’t gon’ believe me when I say this, but none of them are corrupt. None of those bastards have any ‘side businesses,’ or shady pastimes, or take bribes. Farley’s chosen ‘em well.”

Dutch rubbed his chin in thought. “So... why are we taking the time to rob a town that -- from what I’m gathering -- has absolutely nothing happening in it, and is guarded by some of the most vigilant lawmen in Oregon?”

Hosea grinned. “Because the bank in Harlow is laden with cash.”

Arthur paused at that, widening his eyes in shock. “Wait, we’re gonna rob a bank?”

“Why not?”

The young man placed his bottle on the ground. “It’s just-- we’ve never robbed a bank before. You think we could pull it off?”

“With time, patience, and proper planning... absolutely.”

Dutch smirked brazenly, definitely intrigued now. “Now, that’s the Hosea I know. What’s the plan?”

Mac explained the rest of their ideas, finally wandering over to the campfire. “Well, if we wanna get anywhere near that bank, we have to get Sheriff Farley outta the way first. We try to rob anythin’ in Harlow while he’s around, and we’re dead men.”

“So how do we get rid of him? We gonna kill him?”

The other man shook his head. “No. That’s too simple. If we just kill him, they’ll only replace him with someone else. We have an idea that’s not only gonna kick Farley outta the sheriff’s office, but also make sure everyone’s eyes are on him instead of us. ...We’re gonna frame him for murder.”

Arthur shrugged, speaking sarcastically. “Oh, is that all?”

“One of our own people will pretend to be a lawman,” Mac carried on, ignoring the young man. “They’ll ingratiate themselves with Harlow’s deputies, get a shiny badge of their own, and operate from the inside. They’ll study their movements, make sure we always know what those fools are up to, and... when the time is right, they’ll kill one of the deputies. And make sure Sheriff Farley takes the fall.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand, though. How is that more efficient than puttin’ a bullet through Farley’s head? Wouldn’t that be less time consuming?”

Dutch rested a hand on his shoulder. “It ain’t just about getting rid of him, Arthur. If we can make the people of Harlow believe that their sheriff murdered one of his own deputies, everyone will be talkin’ about him. No one will give a damn about what a small band of hooligans is up to.”

“But will that be enough?”

The older outlaw laughed. “Oh, it’ll be more than enough. Trust me, Arthur. You haven’t seen true panic until you’ve seen the type of fear a few headlines can instill in the general public. None of 'em will pay attention to us if the papers don’t. There might be a few articles here and there, but nothing that could serve as a hinderance.”

Hosea nodded at that. “Exactly. If we manage to frame Farley, the rest will take care of itself. People will believe anything they read. All we need to do now is decide who’ll be the mole.”

Dutch considered the decision for a minute, mindlessly drumming his fingers along the side of his bottle.

“...I say Ben.”

Mr. Matthews wasn’t so sure about the selection. “You mean Benjamin Shaw? Are you... sure he’s right for the job? I was thinkin’ we could send someone like Thomas, or even Arthur.”

“I know Benjamin ain’t the most... clean-cut man out there,” Dutch admitted, “but that’s why I think he’s perfect for it. If we send someone who’s too virtuous, or perhaps a little too eager to help out, that could blow their cover even sooner. We need someone who has a reason to wanna right some wrongs, but also ain’t without their own faults.”

Hosea took the idea into consideration. “Hmm... I suppose you have a point. Still, I’d like to take the time to really look at our options before decidin’ on anybody. We only have one chance to get this right, after all.”

Dutch downed some of his beer. “True enough. And besides, we’re still waitin’ on the rest of the gang to get up here. They should be here by tomorrow though, so the delay won’t be long.”

“Good. In the meantime, I’ll let Bessie know what’s going on. I won’t lie, Dutch... she’s not entirely happy with the idea of you comin’ up here and causing trouble, but she understands the necessity of it. We’ve been running low on money recently. We need a good score.”

Dutch didn’t seem too bothered by the notion. “Everything will be alright, Hosea. Not only do we have an idea, we’ve also got the people to carry it out now. Like you said... we have big plans ahead of us. And we ain’t hangin’ up our hats anytime soon.”


	3. Harlow

TWO MONTHS LATER

APRIL, 1887

INDIGO PEAK

Scribbling down a few more lines into his journal, Arthur added some last-minute touches to his sketch of Indigo Peak, doin’ his absolute best to capture what was in front of him.

There was a whole array of purple mountains just sitting in front of this camp. They all sat in a majestic, uneven line right above the horizon and towered over a gathering of evergreen trees, separating the sky from the wildlife that lived in the fields and meadows below.

The white sun also hovered above the mountains in a thick blanket of blue-tinted clouds, and provided the landscape with an abundance of rays. They passed through the space between the summits like something out of a painting, and touched the ground in a scattered pattern, giving the grass a dotted look.

It was extraordinarily beautiful, in Arthur’s opinion. He had seen nature’s beauty many times before, but... it was just one of those things that never got old.

Unfortunately for him however, he absolutely despised his drawing.

“Dammit...” Arthur muttered, smudging some of the graphite out.

How did people do this? Arthur originally got the idea to try it from Thomas who was constantly sketching away in his own journal, but the man made it look so easy. His “doodles” were always so detailed and lifelike, and in the meantime, Arthur’s looked like someone drew them in the midst of an earthquake. Or, at least, that was how he saw it.

The young outlaw let out an annoyed sigh and shut the journal closed, deciding to take a break for now as he relaxed on a nearby tree stump.

He was planning to visit Mary, anyway. The woman sent him a letter not too long ago, and apparently, she was in the region with her family. They were attending the wedding of one of her cousins and were staying at a farm that her grandparents owned, just outside of Harlow. Arthur figured he may as well stop by and say hello before they left.

He just hoped he could avoid Mr. Gillis.

None of the people in Mary’s family really liked him to begin with, but that man was an absolute menace whenever Arthur was around. The young outlaw didn’t know what the hell it would take to please Robert, but the fact that the one person who wanted him dead was the father of his fiancée worried him, to say the least.

Arthur understood Robert’s concerns about letting his daughter marry someone who was a criminal -- any good father would -- but at the same time, he thought he had more than proved himself during his time with Mary.

Arthur never put her in danger, or allowed her to get involved with the gang’s activities. He kept her well away from anything Dutch or Hosea did, and even promised to leave that life behind once he and Mary finally tied the knot. There was also the fact that little Jamie seemed to enjoy having Arthur nearby.

He just didn’t know what else he could do to show Robert that he would be a good husband. Maybe he thought Arthur wouldn’t keep his promise? Or that he was too incompetent?

Well, whatever the case was, Arthur had a bad feeling that Robert was going to be more of a headache than he originally expected. He assumed the man would’ve warmed up to him by now -- the wedding wasn’t too far away, after all -- but that obviously hadn’t happened yet.

He supposed he would just have to keep trying. Mary always told Arthur to have hope, but the young man wasn’t so sure that’d be enough anymore. Mr. Gillis was probably the most stubborn man he’d ever met in his life, and if things didn’t work out between the two of them -- well, that was a bridge they’d have to cross when they got to it.

Arthur just prayed he wouldn’t ever have to worry about that.

Breaking the silence, the sound of people arguing suddenly drew Arthur’s attention away from the landscape and cut off his train of thought, leading him to see what all the commotion was about.

It looked like Thomas and Mac were currently stuck in a spat about something at the moment, and the latter seemed to cling to his companion while he strode around camp, desperate to get away from the quarrel.

“--I’m just saying,” Mac reiterated, “we can’t wait forever!”

“And we won’t,” Thomas replied, clearly vexed. “But we need to be careful.”

The two of them came to a halt, carrying on with their argument not too far away from where Arthur was.

“C’mon, Mac. We’ve been robbing stuff with Hosea for nearly a year now. You know how this works. We make a plan, we wait, and when the time comes, we strike. It’s always the same.”

The other man crossed his arms. “Yeah, but we ain’t never robbed a bank before!”

Thomas placed his hands on his hips. “All the more reason to make sure we do this right. We only have one chance to pull this off, Mac. You understand that? One chance. Ain’t no way we can come back from this if we fail.”

Mac let out a sigh, still not convinced.

“It’s been two months, Thomas. How much longer are we gonna wait?”

Moreau leaned against a tree, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“And what happens if the law finds out we’re here? We gonna move camp again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what about Shaw? Has he made any progress with Farley?”

“I don’t--!” Thomas took a breath, calming himself down. “...I don’t know.”

Arthur jumped into the conversation before the two of them could argue any further and glanced over his shoulder, trying to defuse the situation.

“Hey, uh... you boys alright?” He called out.

Thomas dismissed the question, evidently just wanting to walk away from this.

“We’re fine, Arthur,” he answered, his tone saying otherwise. “Just... a tad anxious about the upcoming robbery.”

Mac scoffed. “If it ever comes.”

That caused Moreau to snap somewhat. “Yeah, well, you got any better ideas, Callander? Maybe you think we should just run up to the bank and shoot our way through the front door? In broad daylight. Oh, and while we’re at it, we could say hello to Sheriff Farley on the way back to camp! Maybe stay at his place for a cup of tea.”

“You know what, Frenchy,” Mac fired back, “you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Why Hosea even bothers puttin’ up with your bullshit is beyond me. He shoulda left you in New Aubertin as far as I’m concerned.”

“My bullshit?” Thomas repeated. “If I recall correctly, it’s always me who’s cleanin’ up after you and Davey! Like that hell y’all raised back in Mercy when Hosea first found you.”

“Oh, you’re really gonna pull that one out now--”

“--Gentlemen!”

Bringing the dispute to an abrupt halt, a guttural voice suddenly cut Mac and Thomas off right before things started to get heated, causing everyone to fall silent as a third party joined the scene.

Sauntering in their direction, Dutch casually walked up to the pair of outlaws with an amused grin on his face as he took a long drag on his cigar, chuckling at their behavior.

“You know, gentlemen, while I do appreciate a good ol’ fashioned fight like no other man alive...” he breathed out a puff of smoke, “...I’d rather you saved the killin’ for Farley’s boys. We got enough of a storm comin’ our way as is.”

Thomas sighed wearily. “Sorry, Dutch. It’s just... folk are gettin’ restless. We been sittin’ on this bank robbery for two months now, and Shaw has yet to give us the all-clear. Some are worried that we’re never gonna pull this off.”

Dutch smiled, pointing with his cigar. “Now, listen to me son, if there’s anything you’re gonna learn from your time with me, it’s that losin’ faith never did no one any good. This robbery is going to happen, and it’s going to happen soon. In fact, I actually received a letter from Benjamin yesterday evening. He thinks we can make our move at any minute now..”

Mac’s expression lit up with a newfound interest. “What? Really? When?”

The other man didn’t promise anything just yet. “I don’t know, but I’m planning to pay him a visit in Harlow. We’ll speak to him face-to-face, and see when we can get things rolling.”

Arthur picked up on that. “We?”

Dutch turned to him. “Yes. I need you to come with me too, Arthur. Apparently, Ben’s got a job for you to do. He asked for you specifically.”

Well, it looked like Arthur wasn’t going to see Mary as soon as he thought. The young man concealed his disappointment. “...Alright, I guess.”

“Good. Then you and I will take a trip down to Harlow, see what Benjamin wants, and in the meantime...” Dutch brought his gaze to Thomas and Mac, “make sure the camp stays in one piece while we’re away, would you?”

Thomas nodded. “Things’ll be fine when you get back.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Dutch put out his cigar and headed for the horses, beckoning Arthur. “Come on, son. We got a job to do.”

Slipping the journal back into his satchel, Arthur removed himself from the tree stump and followed Dutch at a brisk pace, sticking close-by while Thomas and Mac returned to their business.

It looked like the two of them had calmed down by now, and to finish things off, they exchanged some final words before parting ways for the afternoon.

“Hey...” Mac murmured apologetically, “sorry for, um... what I said back there. Y’know I didn’t mean it.”

Thomas let out a fatigued breath. “...Sure. I know.”

The hot-tempered outlaw threw in a quick offer. “...Wanna head down to the saloon later?”

Thomas repeated his answer, although a bit more relaxed this time. “Sure.”

Arthur grinned at the sight and chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. He supposed he and Marston weren’t the only ones who had a relationship like that.

There was no doubt that the little boy drove Arthur insane sometimes, but deep down, the young man knew he could never really hurt John. The kid was like a baby brother to him, after all. Dutch and Hosea pretty much raised them like siblings, and underneath all the havoc, Arthur couldn’t deny that he loved Marston.

He just wished he could get some alone time once in a while. Lord knew John loved getting attention.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt any plans you had,” Dutch suddenly remarked, bringing Arthur back to the task at hand. “I know I dragged you into this rather quickly.”

Arthur decided to be honest with him. “Well, I was gonna visit Mary, actually. She’s in the region right now, and wanted to see me before she left. But it’s like you said, we got a job to do first.”

Dutch approached Belle-Dame, unhitching her from the post. “Mary’s in Harlow?”

“Not Harlow,” he corrected. “On a farm outside of it. She’s stayin’ there with her father and grandparents.”

“Ah. Well, tell you what -- we’ll just have a short chat with Benjamin, hear what updates he’s got for us, and afterwards, you can go on and see Mary. Sound good?”

Arthur mounted Abitha, readying himself for the ride. “Sounds good.”

Dutch smiled at him, climbing on top of his own horse. “Thank you for bein’ patient with me, Arthur. I know this process has been long, but we are gonna do this. We just gotta push a little bit more, and soon, that bank’ll be ours to pillage. Now, c’mon. Harlow awaits.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE GALLOWS, HARLOW

Falling with a sudden drop, the criminal collapsed beneath the gallows’ surface and dangled morbidly in the air, causing the noose’s rope to go taut while the crowd watched in both horror and fascination.

Harlow was normally a peaceful town, and even prided itself on having such a low crime rate, but recently, things had changed for the worse... and everyone could feel it.

No one knew exactly where this feeling came from or why it was appearing so suddenly, but for the past couple of months, a peculiar sense of dread loomed over the town like a dark cloud that just wouldn’t leave. 

There were more thefts, more break-ins, more fights... and even more murders. The people of Harlow were either vanishing or dying one-by-one, and as a result, the entire town was on edge. Though, no one was quite as stressed as their beloved sheriff, Ronan Farley.

The man had the population of a small city depending on him. Harlow always looked to him for answers whenever things went wrong, and normally, he was able to provide.

With everything that was going on though, the sheriff was at a loss for words. Ronan truly had no idea why the town’s overall safety had deteriorated so quickly, and the possibilities of what could’ve been at the heart of all this made him shudder.

Farley had been dealing with outlaws for long enough to know that crimes like this didn’t just fall out of the sky. There was something bigger going on here. Something lurking in the shadows... but he couldn’t act on pure speculation alone.

If Ronan was going to get to the bottom of Harlow’s turbulent situation, he’d have to hope that the people responsible would expose themselves eventually. His hands were full enough as is, and without any proper evidence to conduct a thorough search, there was really nothing more he could do.

Farley’s hands were tied.

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

SHERIFF’S OFFICE

“That’s the third execution this week...” Deputy Leighton said with a discouraged sigh, gazing out the window. “What is happening to this town?”

Ronan removed his hat and placed it down on the desk, offering some reassurance to his friend.

“Keep it together, Andrew,” he reminded the young lawman. “This ain’t the first time we’ve dealt with this.”

“True,” the deputy conceded, “but lately, it just feels like... the wind’s shifted in Harlow. Like our luck’s run out. There are more criminals hangin’ from the gallows than there are bounties on our wall, and this idea that we can’t do our job as lawmen anymore is startin’ to propagate.”

Andrew took a seat at the desk, leaning back in exhaustion. “...Everything’s just a mess.”

Andrew Leighton was the youngest out of the four deputies, and also happened to be the newest, apart from Deputy Shaw. He had only been working with Ronan for about six months, whereas Buchanan and Sommer had been at the sheriff’s side for a couple of years.

Andrew was twenty-one years old, and in contrast to his fellow lawmen, carried a slightly more gullible demeanor to him, often making him a target.

He wasn’t naive, necessarily. Andrew had seen more than his fair share of violence in the past, but he had also been blessed with the curse of wanting to believe the best in people. He tried to maintain the idea that no man was truly evil, and that good nature was reflected in his appearance.

Leighton had a clean-shaven face, a pair of kind blue eyes, and a head of short blond hair that he always kept in a neat style. He wore a slate-blue Classic Frock coat on top of a white shirt and black vest, and adorned a black Paragon Town hat to go with his boots.

Sheriff Farley, on the other hand, sported a much rougher temperament. The hardy man had loose and short brown hair, a full beard, and a noticeably wounded look in his eyes. He was only in his late-thirties, but had a few extra wrinkles creasing his face due to all the stress and lack of sleep.

Ronan’s usual attire consisted of a somewhat weathered Gaucho hat, a dark-brown duster coat, and a scarlet-red vest that he wore on top of an opened white shirt. His boots were nothing fancy and bore no sort of design, but they were sturdy enough... sort of like the people he worked so hard to protect.

Gazing blankly at the empty jail cells, Andrew decided to put professionalism aside for a moment and posed a more colloquial question to Ronan, hoping to get his honest opinion.

“Hey, sheriff...” he said, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Andrew softened his voice a bit, not wanting to announce their conversation to anyone in the vicinity.

“...What d’you think is really goin’ on in Harlow?”

Ronan paused at the vagueness of the question, not entirely sure what Andrew was getting at.

“What do you mean?”

The deputy took a second to clarify. “The deaths, the disappearances, the sudden lack in morale... Harlow’s had its rough patches, sure, but nothing quite like this. You think it’s all just a coincidence?”

The sheriff didn’t crack his shell just yet. “Coincidence or not, we’ll get through it.”

Andrew didn’t buy it. “...With all respect, Ronan, I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not that dense. I’m sure you out of all people can sense something’s wrong in Harlow. Something that... we might not be ready for.”

Ronan took a seat across from Leighton, hoping to relax for just a second.

“It ain’t our job to speculate, Andrew. When there’s a problem, we’ll deal with it. But we can’t go searchin’ for trouble when we don’t even know what to look for.”

“I know,” the deputy agreed, “it’s just... I hate this feeling, y’know? This feeling of sittin’ around, not being able to help the folk ‘round here. Everyone’s worried that we’ve got a rough road ahead of us, and they expect us to solve all their problems, but... we can’t even do anything without solid proof. I suppose I just wish I could do more.”

Ronan leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the desk.

“You’ve got a good heart, Leighton, but we’re the last people this town needs to be gettin’ paranoid. Stay vigilant, and remember to use your head. If anything does happen to Harlow, it’s gonna need all of us to protect it.”

Andrew nodded in reassurance, deciding to drop the subject for now. “...You’re right, you’re right. I can’t go startin’ trouble when there might not even be any. I gotta keep my head on my shoulders. It’s just... it’s difficult when you don’t actually have a target to shoot at yet. But... you’re right. We’ll be okay.”

The deputy stood up from his seat and headed for the door, leaving Farley to his thoughts.

“...Anyway, thanks for listenin’ to me ramble, sheriff. I didn’t mean to put all that on you. You’re a rock for more people than you realize. I just hope I can repay you someday.”

Ronan’s expression remained flat, but it was still clear to Andrew that he appreciated the remark.

“You don’t owe me anything, Andrew.”

Opening the door with a firm pull, the deputy wasted no time in getting back to work and headed out into the open, only to stop in his tracks when he found someone blocking the doorway.

It was a woman. She was about ten years older than Andrew, and a head of black hair that had been tied into a loose bun.

The dress she was wearing appeared rather simple in terms of design, but it still carried an elegant shape regardless. The upper part was a soft shade of white, and the bottom had been dyed mahogany brown. As a way to top it all off though, the woman had also tied a yellow scarf around her neck, and let most of it hang off her back like a miniature cape.

The young deputy recognized her immediately upon seeing her, and gave her a brief greeting.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Farley.”

The woman smiled in response. “Hello, Mr. Leighton.”

Allowing Mrs. Farley to step in first, Andrew waited off to the side until she was in the office before finally making his way out, shutting the door closed behind him.

As for Ronan, the man got up from his desk almost as soon as he saw his wife and approached her, concerned about what she might be doing here.

“Annabelle? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she replied calmly, sensing her husband’s uneasiness. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to check up on you. You haven’t been home much lately.”

Annabelle glanced out the window, lowering her head in fear as a grim expression spread across her face.

“I... heard about the execution today. That’s the third one this week, isn’t it? Or is it the fourth?” She let out a sigh. “I can never keep up. The days seem to blur together now with all these hangings. Are you... doin’ okay, Ronan? All of this pressure can’t be easy on you.”

Ronan sat on the desk’s surface, sliding a hand down his face.

“I’ll be honest, Annabelle. I’m... I’m worried.”

Annabelle stepped in front of him and gently held his hand, rubbing it in a comforting manner.

“Worried? About what?”

The sheriff gestured to the door. “Well, Andrew was talkin’ about this just before you came in, but... he feels like Harlow’s luck has run out. As if our time as a safe hamlet is over. And I’m inclined to agree with him.”

That sparked Annabelle’s interest. “Really? Why? Has somethin’ happened?”

Ronan shook his head. “Nothing in particular, but it don’t take a genius to see that Elijah, Curtis, and Suzanna’s murders are connected. Accordin’ to the evidence we found, they were three separate cases with three different killers -- and we hanged all of ‘em -- but... something just doesn’t feel right. Even after all that chaos, it feels incomplete.”

Annabelle took on a more steadfast tone. “Well, what do you think is happening? Forget the evidence. Forget what people are saying. What does your gut tell you?”

The sheriff fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“...I think there’s more goin’ on here than we can see. I think somethin’ big is coming our way. I dunno what, or how, or even when... but I believe the true killer is still out there. The murders just seemed too similar. Too easy to solve. It all felt contrived to me, and I believe Harlow won’t be safe so long as the real murderer is still roamin’ about. I believe it’s gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better.”

The woman furrowed her brows in anxiety, mindlessly tightening her grip.

“...You’re frightening me, Ronan.”

The man snapped out of his suspicions for the time being and put them aside, bringing a loving hand up to Annabelle’s face.

“I’m... I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to scare you. Things have just been tense around Harlow these past couple of months. I guess I needed to get that off my chest more than I realized. But don’t you worry. I’ll be home tonight. Before you go to bed.

Annabelle beamed at that, afterwards pecking a kiss on Ronan’s cheek. “Good. I miss you.”

The sheriff chuckled softly at that. “I miss you too.”

Mrs. Farley took a step back, still grinning from their conversation. “Well, I’ll let you go now. I’m sure you have many things to attend to. Just... be careful, okay? Harlow needs you now more than ever. And so do I.”

Ronan nodded firmly. “I will. The same goes for you.”

“Of course.”

Annabelle wandered closer to the door, offering some last-minute advice to the troubled sheriff before she left.

“These are strange times, Ronan. The only way we’re gonna get through them is with each other. Don’t forget that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE BLUE BRONCO SALOON, HARLOW

Sitting on top of a barrel, Arthur avidly sketched in silence while Dutch slowly paced around in boredom as the two of them stayed patiently behind Harlow’s saloon, waiting for Benjamin to turn up.

It had been quite a long time ever since Arthur last saw Ben. The man visited their camp occasionally to keep Dutch updated on things, but Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he and Ben actually sat down together and just... talked.

He wondered what he looked like now. What he was doing. How he was getting on.

Sure, Ben wasn’t always the nicest man, or even the most righteous, but as strange as it sounded, that was one of the reasons why Arthur liked him. To him, it made Ben seem to more genuine.

He may not have always been the most eloquent with his words, and sometimes he straight-up tried to avoid people, but Arthur knew that deep down, Ben never worried about hiding behind some sort of pretense.

He said what he meant, and he meant what he said, so there was never any doubt whenever Benjamin expressed his thoughts. Ironically though, he was the one Dutch chose to act as somebody else.

Arthur didn’t know why Dutch thought he’d be the best person to work as a mole. Ben never struck him as somebody to go undercover like this, but despite Arthur’s concerns, Dutch seemed to have no skepticism surrounding Benjamin’s capabilities. According to him, he was the “perfect” man for the job.

Arthur just hoped everything would turn out okay. The gang had worked so hard and for so long to get this robbery done, that for something to go wrong now would’ve been a major setback.

The folks back at camp were nervous enough about robbing a bank for the first time, and Arthur didn’t even wanna think about the chaos that would ensue if their plan failed.

It was like Thomas said. They only had once chance to get this right, and there was no room for impulse. They needed to focus.

“Whatcha workin’ on there, cowboy?” Dutch asked, making Arthur pause mid-sketch.

“Drawing.” The boy answered simply.

His companion smirked. “Oh? Drawing what?”

Arthur shrugged. “...Things.”

“That so? What kinda things?”

The young man gestured aimlessly at their surroundings, admittedly somewhat shy to talk about it. “Y’know, stuff. That we see. Horses, people, trees.”

Dutch chortled humorously at that. “Oh, okay.”

Arthur sighed. “Look, it ain’t nothin’ fancy, alright? I just do it when I’m bored.”

The other man’s grin only grew wider at his annoyance. “Well, please, don’t let me disturb you. Carry on with drawing your... ‘things.”

The young outlaw mentally groaned to himself, returning to his work.

Just before he could start sketching again however, a third person walked into the scene, causing both of them to divert their attention.

“Gentlemen.” Benjamin Shaw greeted flatly, strolling in their direction.

Benjamin was a scraggly-looking man with sunken cheeks due to his growing addiction to alcohol, and displayed a collection of small scars on his face, the most prominent one being a thin, horizontal gash that sat just above his left brow.

As for his hair, it was chocolate-colored and reached long enough to touch his shoulders. In terms of style though, the strands were rather tangled and messy, and his facial hair wasn’t anymore tame.

Benjamin had nothing more than a prickly layer of scruff sticking to his jawline, but there was a slim gap in his mustache from another scar that sliced downwards across his mouth.

On the topic of clothes though -- at the moment, Benjamin was wearing a black Collar Overshirt with a hickory-colored leather jacket that made his badge stand out like a beacon in the night, and he adorned a dark pair of trousers as well as some Sleeked Riding boots to match the Stalker hat that he always wore. 

Overall, he looked pretty much the same compared to when Arthur last saw him, and that made the young man happy.

“There you are!” Dutch replied excitedly. “How the hell are you, my boy?”

Benjamin didn’t appear to return the enthusiasm. If anything, he looked exhausted.

“I feel like shit and I look like shit, but I got some information you might be interested in, Dutch. Though, it ain’t all good news, I’m afraid.”

Dutch’s expression dimmed instantly at the news. “Straight to the point, I see. Very well, then. What is it?”

Benjamin lowered his voice. “Well, the good news is I think we’ll be able to hit the bank soon. Ronan and his deputies trust me. It took some convincing, believe me, but they finally see me as one of their own.”

“Extremely well done, Ben. I knew you was the right feller for this job. When do you think we’ll be able to rob the bank?”

The “deputy” thought for a minute. “Give me... one more week. I’ll be able to get things rollin’ by then.”

Dutch switched to a more serious tone. “Just one more week? Are you certain? We don’t wanna rush this.”

Benjamin insisted. “I’m certain. I’ve got the whole town on edge with a string of recent crimes, and tensions are startin’ to build. Now is the time to do this. If we wait too long, this may not work.”

The other man nodded in understanding. “Okay, then. I trust your judgement. One more week and then we’ll finally hit this goddamn bank. I’ll let the people back at camp know. Now... what’s the bad news?”

Shaw leaned in a bit more, making sure that no one else could hear them.

“I did some investigatin’ into Sheriff Farley, and it turns out, that ain’t even the man’s real name.”

“What?” Dutch questioned, taken aback. “Then what the hell is it?”

Benjamin was quiet for a second, almost like he was worried to see his friend’s reaction.

“O’Driscoll.”

Arthur’s eyes popped wide open. “You’re shittin’ me. The sheriff of this town is an O’Driscoll?”

“Not just any O’Driscoll,” Ben clarified. “He’s Colm’s older brother.”

Dutch’s face scrunched into a glower. “How d’you know this?”

“I overheard Ronan and his wife talkin’ about it,” Benjamin explained. “Apparently, he changed his name to ‘Farley’ many years ago ‘cause he didn’t wanna be associated with the O’Driscolls no more. Sounds to me like he and Colm didn’t get along.”

“So, he’s not working with the gang?” Arthur asked.

“No. I don’t think so. Ronan’s got a strong hatred for outlaws. I highly doubt he’d ever work with them.”

“Still,” Dutch added, “it’s something to think about. When we first arrived at New Aubertin, Thomas told me there had been rumors of the O’Driscolls being in this region. If Colm’s got any affection left for his brother, and he finds out what we’re doing -- we need to be extra careful from here on out.”

“Agreed.”

“Well,” Dutch said, heading back to his horse, “I’m gonna return to camp. Let ‘em know about the plan. In the meantime, Arthur will help you out with that job you mentioned. Stay safe, you two. And keep a low profile. We’re this close to robbin’ that bank. We ain’t botching it now.”

Taking his leave, Dutch removed himself from the saloon’s vicinity and rode back to camp like a bat out of hell, eager to deliver the good news to the gang as the sun steadily began to set.

Meanwhile, Arthur stayed behind with Benjamin and simply remained seated on his barrel while the other man found a comfortable spot next to him, leaning against the saloon’s wall in a casual manner.

“So...” Arthur began, “what was that job you had for me?”

Ben took off his hat, wiping some of the sweat off his forehead. “There was no job.”

The young man raised a brow. “What? So why’d you ask Dutch to bring me here?”

“Because you’re one of the few people I like to talk to, and I need a break from this mess.” Benjamin quickly lit a cigarette, offering one to Arthur. “Anyway... how’ve you been? Things goin’ good at camp?”

Arthur took the cigarette and waited for Ben to light it, continuing the conversation. “As good as they can be. I’m plannin’ to visit Mary later. Apparently, she’s in the region.”

The other man’s face sagged with obvious disapproval. “Ms. Gillis is here?”

“Yes. You mean to tell me you still don’t like her?”

Benjamin put out the match. “It ain’t that simple, Arthur. Mary’s a sweet girl -- I ain’t suggestin’ otherwise. I just don’t know how serious she is about marrying you.”

Arthur couldn’t deny that he struck a nerve. “What do you mean by that? She said yes, didn’t she?”

“Well yeah, but how long before that dusty, old shithead father of hers gets in the way? You really think he'll have no influence on Mary? He’s already tryin’ to put your head on a pike as it is.”

The young man let out a cloud of smoke. “Mary loves me, Ben. And I love her. Nothing’s separatin’ us. Besides, what her father does ain’t her fault. I really don’t understand why you and Grimshaw dislike her so much. ”

Benjamin sighed in defeat. “We’re just lookin’ out for you, Arthur. You’re a good man. Much better than a lot of us. We don’t wanna see you get hurt. But... if you trust her, then I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I did too. Just don’t expect me to weclome her with open arms anytime soon.”

Arthur picked up on Benjamin’s agitated tone, suddenly worried about his friend’s well-being. This wasn’t just about Mary... was it?

“Hey...” he said, speaking more softly, “r’you good, Ben? I mean, you’ve always been an angry bastard, but you seem especially irritated today. What’s goin’ on?”

Thinking to himself for a moment, the deputy remained quiet and ignored Arthur’s question as he thought about what to say next, clearly conflicted about something.

It was unusual for Ben to be so reserved. He wasn’t a social butterfly by any means, but... even then, this sort of behavior was odd for him. Normally, he’d crack a joke or two -- maybe throw in a hint of sarcasm here and there, but today, he was completely serious.

It made Arthur suspect that this whole job was having more of a toll on Benjamin than anyone in the gang truly understood. Dutch did kind of force him into this, after all, and Arthur really had no idea what sort of experiences Ben was going through in order to get the gang where they were now.

Arthur just hoped that Ben wasn’t angry with him personally. It was no secret that Dutch favored the young man over anyone else in the gang, and part of Arthur couldn’t help but feel as if that was what got him out of doing this job, despite the fact that Hosea originally planned to send him or Thomas.

Just what was going on?

“...Y’know what, Arthur,” Benjamin finally said, sounding far more drained than before, “I won’t lie to you. These past two months with Ronan and his men... they’ve opened my eyes to some things. Things that... that make me question everything I’ve done in my life.”

Arthur turned to face him. “What d’you mean?”

Shaw looked at him with a guilt-ridden gaze, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“...I’ve done some terrible stuff throughout the years, Arthur. Stuff that even you don’t know about. I’ve hurt people like it was nothing, killed others for the sake of money, and even turned my back on a few folks who loved me just like you and Dutch do. But... after workin’ with Farley, I’m not sure that’s the man I wanna be anymore.”

Arthur quirked a brow at the statement. “Wait, are you sayin’ you wanna become a lawman for real?”

“Not a lawman,” Ben corrected, “but I dunno if I’m gonna be returning to the gang after this robbery. I’m thinkin’ of maybe going my own way. Starting a different life with the money we take, while I still have the chance. I’m... I’m sorry, Arthur. I probably should’ve said something sooner.”

The young man protested. “You can’t leave, Ben. We need you in this gang. Not only are you one of the best people we’ve had, you’re also my friend. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Benjamin flipped the subject to him. “And what about you? You’re gonna be a husband soon, Arthur. Possibly even be a father someday. You can’t stay in this life forever. It’s gotta be left behind eventually if you wanna be there for your family.”

Arthur felt admittedly somewhat cornered by the response.

“I-I know. And I’ll leave it behind when the time comes, but I still owe it to Dutch to stick with him throughout this whole thing. He saved my life. Yours, too. You’ve said it yourself.”

“Yeah, but my life wasn’t worth savin’ when he first found me. I wanna make sure that it is before I go.”

Somewhat overwhelmed by Benjamin’s sudden confession, Arthur gave the man nothing but a concerned gaze in response and simply sat there with a cigarette in his hand, watching the smoke dance from its tip as it slowly burned away.

Meanwhile, Benjamin threw his to the ground and swiftly stubbed it out with his boot, marking the end of their conversation.

“Do me a favor, Arthur,” he said before returning to his work. “Don’t become the same man I was. When the time comes, make sure you do what’s right.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to take that advice. “It ain’t always that easy, Ben.”

“I never said it would be easy,” he countered. “In fact, it’s probably gonna be a goddamned nightmare before any of this blows over... but it’ll be worth it. So long as you do the right thing. Remember that.”

With that being said, Benjamin walked off into the busier parts of town just as more people started pouring out of the different establishments around Harlow, ready to go back home for the evening.

He threw a casual wave over his shoulder, saying one last goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur. Lord only knows what the future holds.”


	4. Dinner Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg guys I’m sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I hit a writer’s block for a while (and also ran into a few technical difficulties), but I’m finally happy with it. Hope you enjoy and thanks for being so patient.

ABOUT AN HOUR LATER

GILLIS FARM

Trotting underneath the golden sun, Arthur rode through the lush grass and rolling hills as he made his way to Gillis Farm, eager to see his fiancée again.

It had been quite some time since the young man last got a chance to visit Mary. For the past couple of months, Arthur had been so busy running around with the gang and planning robberies with them, that he barely had any time to write to the woman, let alone see her in person.

It made him feel guilty, leaving her hanging for so long. They were going to be married soon, after all... and as a husband, he couldn’t afford to leave his wife alone. If Arthur wanted this marriage to work, he’d have to be there for Mary and support her in their new life together. As a couple.

What truly worried Arthur, though... was his recent conversation with Benjamin.

Up until this point, the young outlaw had been convinced that he was more than ready to go through with the marriage. Arthur loved Mary more than anyone else in his life, and he knew the feeling was mutual. They were practically soulmates by now. How could anything go wrong?

But when Benjamin expressed his doubts pertaining to Mary’s commitment, Arthur couldn’t deny that he shared some of the man’s concerns.

Robert had been such an obstacle in their relationship for these past few years that it was impossible to guarantee he wouldn’t have any influence on Mary in the days to come.

...What if Benjamin and Susan were right? What if Mary didn’t love him as much as he thought? Would she really pick her father’s opinion over a new life with him? It shook the young man to the core to even think about it.

If Arthur lost Mary... he didn’t know what he’d do.

He had put so much time and effort into their relationship that if she simply walked away after all this... he’d feel like she was taking a part of him with her.

There was no way Arthur would be able to just “move on” if Mary decided to drop him, and the mere thought of her leaving him put the man in a state of panic.

But... then again, Mary had yet to actually do anything to solidify his doubts. She had been nothing if not compassionate to him so far, and Arthur knew for a fact that their love was mutual.

These thoughts were probably nothing more than temporary anxiety due to their upcoming wedding. This was most-likely what a lot of people went through before their marriage, and Arthur had to remind himself to calm down.

Everything would be okay. He just had to trust Mary.

Finally arriving at Gillis Farm, Arthur steadily slowed Abitha down to a halt and took in the quaint view, admiring the natural beauty surrounding it.

The farm was located on a flat plot of land that seemed to have nothing but open fields stretching out in front of it, and off to the side, Arthur could see a lively collection of farm animals lazing about inside the fenced area.

There were cows, chickens, pigs, goats, and even some horses, too. A few of the creatures lifted their heads in curiosity at the sight of the young man visiting their farm, but the rest of them seemed to be unbothered and simply carried on with their day.

Hopefully, the same would apply to Mary’s family.

Approaching the hitching posts, the outlaw hopped off his mount and left her near the other horses that were also gathered there, giving her a small treat to thank her for the lengthy ride.

The farm wasn’t a long distance from Indigo Peak necessarily, but Arthur would’ve been lying if he said he had no problems navigating the steep hills and rocky rivers dotting the region. It took a good chunk of effort to not slip in a few places, and he definitely didn’t look forward to backtracking through that mess once this visit was over.

Oh, well. He supposed it was worth it if it meant he got to see Mary.

“Good job, girl...” Arthur said softly, feeding Abitha an oatcake. His companion wiggled her pointy ears in gratitude.

“Arthur!” A woman’s voice suddenly called out to him, getting his attention.

Turning around at the sound of his name, Arthur spotted an elated Mary waving to him from the front porch, trying not to trip over her dress as she walked down the steps to greet him.

At the moment, Mary was wearing a simple yellow blouse paired with a navy blue skirt, and her hair had been tied into a stylish bun. A few annoying strands danced around her face due to the light breeze in the area, but that only gave Arthur the chance to tuck them behind her ear before pulling her into a loving embrace.

“Hello, Mary,” he said softly. “It’s good to see you again.”

Mary smiled, hugging him back. “You too, Arthur. You too. I’m so glad you came. How’ve you been?”

Arthur separated the hug and returned the smile. “Good. Busy, but good.” His expression dimmed a bit. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you more often. I wanted to, but... things have been hectic lately.”

The woman didn’t appear to be bothered. “Well, you’re here now, Arthur. That’s what matters.”

She fell silent for a moment, changing the subject.

“Are you, um... still with Dutch and Hosea?”

Arthur nodded, although not proudly. He was well aware of what his fiancée thought about the gang.

“Yes. But don’t worry, Mary. I’m gonna leave ‘em soon. We just have one more job to take care of, and then I’ll be gone once the wedding’s here.”

Mary wasn’t entirely convinced. “Are you sure? You may be willin’ to leave, but... do you really think Dutch and Hosea will let you go that easily?”

“...I don’t know,” he conceded. “Maybe not. But I’m an adult now. Even if they don’t like my decision to leave, I’m sure they’ll respect it.”

That seemed to comfort the woman somewhat.

“That’s good to hear. I just... I don’t want there to be any trouble with gangs once we’re married, Arthur. Things’ll be busy enough as is.”

“There won’t be.” He reassured. “Dutch and Hosea may be outlaws, but they’re good men. They wouldn’t put us in harm’s way.”

Mary paused for a second. “...I was talkin’ about the O’Driscolls.”

Arthur raised a brow. “The O’Driscolls? What about them?”

She lowered her voice, pulling the young man closer to her. “It ain’t no secret that they’re not fond of Dutch’s boys, Arthur. Even if you leave the gang, they’ll still see you as one of them. Are you sure we’ll be safe? That... Colm won’t come after us?”

The outlaw shrugged. “What reason would he have? Colm’s main beef is with Dutch. Not me.”

“I know...” Mary said anxiously. “I just... I worry about you. You’re always out there, runnin’ around and getting shot at. It’s impossible to not fear for your safety.”

Arthur gently placed a hand on the side of Mary’s face. “Everything’ll be alright, Mary. I promise.”

The young woman decided to let go of her worries for now and simply let out a sigh, realizing that it was pointless to repeat the same fears over and over again.

Mary may not have liked Arthur’s involvement with crime, but she was also aware that he couldn’t just drop everything and leave. Despite being an outlaw, Arthur also had his own responsibilities to take care of, and for now... she was just going to have to accept that.

But before she could think anymore on the subject, an intrusive voice suddenly joined the scene and called out to the woman, interrupting the affectionate moment she was sharing with her fiancé.

“Mary!” They exclaimed in a gravelly tone.

She let out an uneasy breath, knowing exactly who it was before even seeing them.

“...Daddy.”

Robert Gillis stomped in their direction, pointing an accusatory finger at Arthur.

“What the hell is he doin’ here? Didn’t I tell you to stay away from this boy?”

Mary tried to defuse the situation. “This ‘boy’ is my fiancé, father. I told you already. I’m gonna marry him. Now, please... just calm down.”

The drunken man scoffed. “Calm down? How do you expect me to calm down when my daughter’s marrying some lying, cheating, piece-of-shit outlaw? Bastard probably came here to rob us!”

“Father!” She scolded. “You know he’s not like that. And besides, I invited Arthur here.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. “...Did you, now?”

Mary nodded staunchly. “Yes. He’s our guest. He just wanted to pay me a visit... and he’s also going to join us for dinner.”

Arthur snapped his head towards her.

“Wait, what?”

Mary stood by her decision. “If this marriage is gonna work out, then you two need to get along... and you can start by sharin’ a meal together. Like a family.”

Robert refused. “...That man ain’t no family of mine.”

The young woman remained persistent. “Well, he’s going be. So please... just for one night, don’t start anything. Both of you. Let’s just... have some dinner in peace. Can you do that? For me?”

Arthur sighed in frustration, suddenly regretting having come here in the first place. What the hell was Mary thinking?

Dealing with Robert was bad enough, but sitting down for an entire meal with him? And for the whole evening? He may as well have just shot himself in the foot and saved Robert the trouble.

But... Arthur did care about Mary. And regardless of how much he may have wanted to strangle Robert sometimes, the man was still her father. If Arthur was going to become part of Mary’s family, he’d have to accept his company eventually, whether he liked it or not.

So, against his better judgement, Arthur figured that if this was what she wanted from him, then... he would do his best to make her happy.

“...Alright.” He agreed, albeit reluctantly. “For you.”

Mary smiled warmly at him. “Really? You mean it? Thank you, Arthur.” She turned to Robert. “...And you, Daddy?”

Robert nailed his stern gaze onto Arthur, not even daring to blink as he gave his daughter an answer.

“...Fine. But he ain’t settin’ one foot in this house with that gun on his waist.”

Mary glanced down at Arthur’s holster. “Why not? You’ve got a gun too, father.”

The older man laughed at that. “Yeah, but mine’s for protection. As for him, his type are always unpredictable. They make a living shootin’ people in the wilderness, and takin’ everything they got. There ain’t no way I’m trusting him to enter my house with a goddamn six-shooter hangin’ off his belt. He wants to sit down at my table? With my daughter? Then he’s gotta follow my rules.”

The young woman shook her head in embarrassment. “...Father, please--”

“--It’s alright, Mary.” Arthur reassured, returning Robert’s glare. “...I’ll put my guns away.”

Keeping his eyes glued on Robert, Arthur reached down to undo his gun belt as the other man watched his every move, monitoring him like a hawk. The last thing Arthur wanted was to do anything Robert asked of him, but at the same time, he also didn’t want to start any trouble when Mary was around.

He knew the woman was just doing her best to have them get along. They were both her family, after all, and if Mary was putting in the effort to make this marriage work, then... Arthur supposed he should, too.

It was something much easier said than done, of course, but Mary mattered to him.

Slipping the accessory off, Arthur turned on his heel and trudged back to Abitha, slinging the loose belt over her saddle as Mary and Robert waited for him.

It was humiliating for Arthur to follow Robert’s commands like this, but he knew the fighting would never end if he didn’t comply. He had to be the bigger man in situations like this, and perhaps that was part of what it meant to be a good husband. Didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

“There.” Arthur said, patting his empty waist. “No guns.”

Robert wasn’t finished interrogating him just yet. “...Any knives?”

The outlaw had to hold back his annoyance. “...No, sir. Just guns.”

The other man crossed his arms and fell silent for a moment, clenching his jaw in irritation as he stared Arthur down.

“Alright then.” He finally accepted. “You can come in... but if you try anything funny, just remember that I’ve still got my gun on me. And I won’t hesitate to use it. Got it?”

Arthur bit his tongue. “...I got it.”

“Good. Then let’s head inside.” Robert held up a cautionary finger. “And don’t start nothing.”

~~~~~~~~~~

INDIGO PEAK

THAT EVENING

Meandering around camp, Dutch casually sauntered through the scattered trees and tents as he watched his fellow gang members prepare for the upcoming robbery, all of them eager to get things rolling.

It wasn’t too long ago that he informed them of Benjamin’s long awaited update, and even though the robbery was still a week away, the fact that they were finally going to make their move after two whole months had the entire gang on their toes.

Dutch couldn’t deny that he wasn’t without worry, though. This was the first time they’d ever be hitting a bank, and if he was being honest, Dutch had no idea if his men were ready for this. Hosea and Arthur were some of the best outlaws he’d ever met, sure, but neither of them had experience with a heist of this level.

He supposed he’d just have to trust that his people knew what they were doing. Everyone wanted things to go according to plan, after all, and if he learned anything from his time with them, it was that they wouldn’t do anything to botch this robbery.

At least... not on purpose.

Approaching Hosea’s tent, a soft smile crept onto Dutch’s face as he came across a heartwarming scene, causing him to stop in his tracks so he could watch it unfold.

It wasn’t very often that their gang got the opportunity to be at peace like this. Normally, they were always running away from the law or fighting against their enemies... and as anxious as everyone was to rob Harlow’s bank, Dutch knew it’d be a trigger for chaos once it happened.

And so, with a few moments to spare, Dutch simply leaned against a tree and kept his gaze on Hosea, watching as the man carried on with this serene evening.

“...Your reading’s getting much better, Marston.” Hosea praised as the boy examined the book’s text. At the moment, the two of them were sitting side by side on a log just next to the man’s tent.

“Go on,” Hosea urged. “Keep reading.”

John furrowed his brows in confusion, doing his best to concentrate as he mouthed out the words. “...The Indian chief and his son... p-parleed--”

“--Parleyed.” Hosea corrected.

“...parleyed with the... American... ‘ker-nel?” John turned to him for clarification.

“That’s correct. Keep going.”

The boy paused. “Wait, why does ‘colonel’ have an ‘R’ in it? There’s no ‘R’ in the word.”

Hosea shrugged. “I don’t know, John. That’s just the way it is.”

John was quiet for a moment. “...That’s stupid.”

The other man chuckled in amusement. “Perhaps, but that’s how the English language works.”

The boy sighed wearily. “...I’m bored. Can we read the rest tomorrow? I wanna go play with Arthur.”

Hosea glanced up at the darkening sky and shut the book closed, placing it on his lap.

“Yes, I think now’s a good time to stop. It’s getting late. Though... I’m not sure where Arthur is.” His gaze traveled to the man watching them from a distance. “You have any ideas, old friend?”

Dutch pushed himself off the tree, afterwards strolling in their direction. “I believe he’s still with Mary. I know he went to visit her earlier after our talk with Ben.”

A curious expression spread across John’s face. “Are they still gettin’ married?”

Hosea put the book away and stood up from the log. “Yes, I believe so.”

The boy frowned in response. “...Does that mean he’s gonna leave the gang once they’re together?”

Dutch and Hosea fell silent at that, exchanging looks.

“I...” Hosea trailed off, admittedly somewhat sad to think about it, “...I suppose so. He’s got no choice, though. He’ll have a family to take care of.”

John gestured at the three of them. “But we’re his family.”

“True, but everyone grows up eventually, John. Even you will someday. And who knows? You might find a wife of your own when you reach Arthur’s age. You’ll have to be there for her too when that happens.”

The kid rejected the idea. “Then I don’t wanna do that. Not if it means I gotta leave other people behind. That wouldn’t be fair.”

Hosea put a comforting hand on John’s shoulder, urging the boy to get some rest. “Well, there’s still plenty of time before Arthur and Mary... marry. You’ll get to see him again soon enough. Have no fear. Now, go on. Get some sleep. We can continue reading tomorrow.”

John didn’t appear satisfied with the response, but followed Hosea’s instructions nonetheless. “...Okay. I’ll see you in the morning, then. I guess.”

Hopping off the short log, the boy removed himself from the tent’s vicinity and returned to his own corner of the camp, leaving Dutch and Hosea alone as the two men contemplated everything the kid just brought up.

“...He’s got a point, you know.” Hosea said once the silence settled.

Dutch sat next to the other man, plopping himself down on the log.

“About what?”

“About Arthur. He’s gonna be a husband soon, Dutch. He can’t stay with the gang forever. You know that.”

Dutch shrugged in denial. “I dunno. You and Bessie have been married for a few years now and you’re still with us. You don’t think Arthur could do the same?”

“Oh, I’m sure he could. That boy’s capable of practically anything.” Hosea leaned forward, linking his hands together. “But that doesn’t matter. What truly matters... is whether he wants to. And I don’t believe he does.”

The other man stretched his legs out, getting more comfortable on the log. “What makes you say that?”

“Our situation grows more volatile with every second, Dutch. We have lawmen hunting us from the west, rival gangs coming from the north, and God knows what else lurking in the shadows. Not to mention we’ll be robbing a goddamn bank soon. If Arthur wants a stable life with Mary, he’ll have no choice but to leave this one behind. It’s just not possible to juggle the two at the same time.”

Dutch knew Hosea was right, but still remained reluctant to admit it. He saw Arthur as a son, after all. The last thing he wanted was to see the boy leave.

“...It wouldn’t be the same without that little rascal.” Dutch said despondently. “You, me, and Arthur -- it was the three of us that started this whole thing. That boy ain’t just part of our gang, Hosea. He’s part o’ the foundation. If he leaves...”

Hosea rested a hand on Dutch’s shoulder, trying to help him come to terms with reality.

“I’ll miss him too, old friend. But Arthur’s his own man now. To be honest, I feel like he always has been. If he wants to start a new life with Mary, then perhaps that’s what’s best for him. Better than the life of crime we’ve given him, anyhow.”

Dutch let out a heavy breath, slouching his shoulders. “...I suppose we’ve done all we can for him, haven’t we? Sometimes I forget he’s all grown up now.”

Hosea chuckled. “You and me both. But time moves on, and we have to move with it, Dutch. The most we can do now is wish Arthur luck in his marriage.”

With that said, Hosea stood up from the log with a soft grunt and picked up the storybook he was reading with John earlier, leaving Dutch to his thoughts.

“Well, anyway... I think Bessie’s gonna start cookin’ dinner soon. I should go help. See if she needs anything. In the meantime, try not to think too much about it. Arthur loves us too, y’know, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want us to worry about him.” A quiet laugh escaped him. “...If only that were possible.”

Dutch returned the laugh, returning to his own activities. “Indeed. Stay safe out there, Hosea. I have a feelin’ this week’s gonna go out with a bang.”

“Oh yes, old friend.” The other man agreed. “If there’s one thing I don’t doubt -- it’s that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

GILLIS FARM

A WHILE LATER

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

That was the only thing Arthur could hear as he picked aimlessly at his food, sitting awkwardly at the dining table and waiting for this torturous evening to come to an end.

For the whole meal so far, the rest of Mary’s insufferable family had been discussing nothing but politics and religion as if they lived and breathed the two subjects -- and every once in a while, one of them would turn to Arthur and ask the outlaw for his input.

It was probably the most pretentious conversation he’d ever been a part of. It was evident to the young man that none of these people truly had any interest in politics, and merely brought up the topic because they knew Arthur despised discussing these sort of things. Not to mention the fact that they also assumed him to be highly uneducated, and therefore saw his presence as an opportunity to make themselves feel more intelligent.

The only person at this table who wasn’t irritating the living hell out of Arthur at the moment was Mary herself, but even she had caused him some level of annoyance due to her forcing the man to go through this in the first place.

Arthur just wanted this night to end. He was already well aware of how Mary’s family felt about him, and he doubted that sharing one meal with them would change anything. Hell, Robert already threatened to shoot him before he even set foot in the goddamned house. It was unlikely that a simple chicken dinner would be enough to bring the two men together.

“...Did you hear?” Mary’s aunt Loretta asked as she buttered some bread. “Apparently Reuben Walsh has been at Margaret Whitaker’s throat ever since his father passed. They just can’t see eye to eye.”

Loretta’s husband Wilfred scoffed. “Those two fools will tear Mercy apart with their political war before anything gets solved. They’ve got gangs coming at them from every direction, and yet they’re more concerned about whose crown shines brighter? Abraham Walsh may’ve been old, but at least he knew how to keep the peace.”

Robert laughed at the statement, deciding to throw his own two cents in. “Keep the peace? The only thing that miserable old coot did was swipe all of Mercy’s problems under the carpet. Some people call Reuben reckless, but he’s the only person who’s got the balls to do something about the crime in that town. After all, nothing’s pretty when you’re dealing with that sorta lot. It’s about time Whitaker learned that.”

Mary’s grandmother Helga offered her thoughts. “Well, there are rumors suggesting that the reason Miss Whitaker has been so much of a pacifist is because she’s working with the gangs. It sounds like they’re the only ones keeping her in power.”

“Well, of course they are,” Robert replied. “You don’t get to that high of a position with that amount of ease unless you got someone in your pocket.”

Loretta set her knife down, glancing in Arthur’s direction. “What do you think, Mr. Morgan? I understand that you’re, um... familiar with that sort of lifestyle. Who do you think is in the right?”

Arthur paused for a moment, admittedly unsure of what to say.

“Um...” he said sheepishly, “...I-I’m afraid I don’t know enough about Mercy’s situation to really give an opinion, ma’am.”

“Well then, let me run it down for you.” Loretta offered. Arthur wished she hadn’t.

“The Whitakers and the Walshes are the two most powerful families in Mercy,” she explained. “They both carry an extravagant amount of wealth and influence, but recently, have butted heads with each other. You see, Mercy has always had quite a persistent problem with local gangs in the area, and both of these families want to deal with them. They just disagree on how.”

Arthur tried to pretend he was interested. “What do they wanna do?”

“Margaret Whitaker believes that their town is too small to stand up to such a large amount of outlaws, and thinks that the safest solution is to negotiate a deal with them in order to keep the peace in Mercy. As for Reuben Walsh, he would prefer to take on a more direct approach. He thinks that Margaret’s plan to negotiate with them will only lead to more trouble, and wants to wipe out the criminals entirely. But by doing so, he would risk an open war with Lord knows how many gangs.”

Wilfred jumped in. “Not to mention that the man himself is also a cripple. Apparently, the boy’s half blind and moves around in a wheelchair. A wheelchair, for heaven’s sake! How can a man like that fight against anyone?”

Robert boomeranged the subject back to Arthur. “Well? Any thoughts?”

The young man let out a sigh, thinking deeply about the argument.

What did they expect him to say? They all knew he was an outlaw himself, and there was no question that they dragged him into this God-awful conversation purely to put him on the spot.

Still, Arthur knew he’d have to give them some kind of answer if he wanted to keep them satisfied. Yeah, they might’ve been doing this just to humiliate him, but if it meant being one step closer to finishing this nightmare of an evening, he’d do anything.

“...Whitaker, I guess.” Arthur replied. “Why risk more peoples’ lives when you’ve already got a solution standin’ in front of you?”

Surprisingly, Loretta seemed to approve of the response. “Well said. It’s never pleasant to deal with these sorts of people, but when there’s that many of them crying out for blood on the horizon, sometimes you’ve got no choice but to comply.”

Robert, on the other hand, only appeared to dislike Arthur even more. “Yeah, of course he would agree with that.”

“What do you mean by that?” Arthur asked, sounding more irritated than he intended. The young man couldn’t deny that his ability to hold back was deteriorating by the minute.

“...You know damn well what I mean.” Robert fired back. Mary shot a disappointed look at him.

“Daddy, please. Not now.”

“If not now, then when? You know what kind of a man he is, Mary! He may say he’s prepared to commit to a marriage with you, but we all know he’s always gonna be an outlaw at heart. That boy’s gonna get you killed someday, and you’re gonna wish you listened to me!”

Arthur decided to bite his tongue and reached for his drink, only to find himself gripping the glass harder and harder the more Robert prattled on about him.

“Nothin’ to say, Mr. Morgan?” The man challenged. “Oh, you’re big and bad when you’ve got a gun in your hand, alright, but face a real man for once, and suddenly you’ve gone mute!”

“Daddy!” Mary reiterated. “Please! That’s enough. I didn’t bring Arthur here just so you two could start an argument! I brought him here because I wanted you two to start gettin’ along! Is that so hard?”

“He’s got no place in this family, Mary!” Robert exclaimed. “In fact, he’s got no business being on this farm at all. I only let him in because you asked me to. But look at the man! He hasn’t got a single, goddamn clue what any of us are talkin’ about. He’s got no education, no real job, and no real family! The closest thing he’s got to family is a group of dirty, filthy, worthless inbreds!”

Arthur suddenly sprang straight up from his chair and glared at Robert, unable to restrain himself anymore.

Mary jumped at the abrupt motion and held an arm in front of Arthur, desperately attempting to diffuse the situation.

“Arthur! Please, sit down!”

“See?!” Robert accused, pointing a finger at him. “What’d I tell you? The man’s an animal!”

Arthur firmly placed his hands on the table, leaning towards the other man.

“You got somethin’ to say, you say it to my face when you ain’t cowering behind your own daughter. The only reason I agreed to share a meal with you is ‘cause I wanted to smooth things over, but that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna sit here and take this nonsense!”

Robert glowered at Arthur. “...Excuse me?”

The young man tore the napkin from his lap and tossed it down on the table. “No, I’ve excused you enough for one night. I’m done.”

Storming out of the farm at the speed of light, Arthur made a swift exit and left the rest of Mary’s family in a state of shock as the woman herself chased after him, following her fiancé into the cool weather of the night.

“Arthur!” She called out. “Wait!”

But the young man ignored her and simply carried on with his escape, heading towards the hitching posts.

“Arthur!” Mary repeated, desperate to get his attention. “Please! Just... hold on a moment!”

The outlaw stopped in his tracks, letting out a frustrated breath. “What, Mary? What more do you want from me? Look, I tried, okay? I really did. But I can’t go back in there. There’s nothing in this world that could please that sorry excuse of a man.”

The young woman frowned. “That’s my father you’re talkin’ about, Arthur.”

Arthur unhitched Abitha from the post and retrieved his gun belt. “Well, what else d’you want me to say, Mary? That he’s a nice man? That... he’s kind and compassionate?”

Mary sighed. “Whatever you may think of him, he’s still my father. I just want you two to get along. Is that too much to ask?”

The man shook his head. “Listen... I love you, Mary, but your father is never going to accept me. It’s clear that he’s already made up his mind, and there’s nothin’ we can do to change it.”

“Well, your outburst certainly didn’t help things, Arthur.”

The outlaw was perplexed. “What did you expect me to do? Just sit there and take it? You heard the way he was talkin’ about Dutch and Hosea. About these people I consider to be my family. How can you expect me to respect him when he doesn’t respect me?”

Mary crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know my father did wrong tonight, but all I wanted this evening was for the both of you to put your differences aside. Can you not even do that?”

Arthur mounted his horse, gesturing back to the farm. “Maybe you should ask him that question.”

Falling into silence, the couple took a minute to gather themselves as Mary’s family started cleaning up inside, causing the distant sound of clattering plates to reach their ears.

It had been a long night for the both of them, but Arthur was especially worried about what sort of impact this incident was going to have on their marriage. He couldn’t help but repeat what Benjamin said to him over and over again in his head, and the more he thought about the man’s words, the more he started to think he may’ve had a point.

Perhaps Mary was going to choose Robert over him. It was evident that she still loved the man despite his drunken behavior, and no matter what Arthur did, it always felt like the other man had the upper hand when it came to influencing Mary’s decisions.

Jesus Christ... what kind of hole had Arthur dug himself into this time?

“...Look, Mary,” Arthur said softly, breaking the silence, “I’m sorry for what happened tonight. I didn’t mean for things to turn out like this, but... I just can’t deal with that man anymore. I can’t go back in.”

Mary nodded in an understanding manner and watched sorrowfully as Arthur led Abitha away from the posts, preparing to go home.

“I... I understand, Arthur. Thank you for trying, at least. I know you didn’t want this. I just wish things could’ve gone better.”

Arthur hung his head low. “...Yeah. Me too.”

She walked up to him. “Well... anyways, it’s gettin’ late. You should probably head back to camp now. I reckon Dutch and Hosea might be wondering where you are. Try to stay safe, okay?”

The outlaw gave her a reassuring look. “I will. You take care of yourself too, Mary.”

The woman returned the remark with a caring smile, bidding her fiancé farewell as he disappeared into the night. “I will.”


End file.
